Edith
by Ladyembth
Summary: In 1920 Edith Crawley's heart was broken. It is now 1947. What has happened to her in the twenty five years in between.


_A/N: I am definitely an Edith/Anthony shipper. However, I think all of us who love this couple are going to have a very long wait – possibly a year or more. So, that being said, this little story just came to me out of nowhere. It is completely AU, will never happen (?), and isn't meant to annoy anyone. It is just __**fiction. **__As always, I don't own any of these characters, Julian Fellowes and ITV do._

The year was 1947 and today was Edith's twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. Sitting at her dressing table, waiting for her husband to finish dressing, she thought back over the years. They had just come through another war and thankfully neither one of her two sons had been wounded or killed. Her children, five in all, so different yet so alike in many ways. Angus, the oldest at twenty four, Violet, twenty two, Henry, twenty one, and the twins Margaret (Maggie) and Cora, who had just turned nineteen. All of them named for beloved family members.

She was amazed every time she looked at them. She never thought she would ever be married or have children. In 1920 at age twenty-six, her world came crashing down when the man she loved, her first love, left her at the altar on their wedding day. They had known each other before the war but when **he **came back slightly wounded, his confidence in himself and her, collided with his common sense and his Victorian conscience, convincing him that his age (he was twenty years older) and infirmity would sentence her to a life of caring for a crippled old man. **He** never saw how much she loved him, wanted him, needed him.

She left for London a week later and never looked back. She got a job with a publishing house and settled into a routine life of working. She decided she would never go back to Yorkshire, her family would have to come to her. The only time she went back was when her sister Sybil died. The heartbreak over Sybil's death and being within five miles of where **he** lived, nearly did her in.

No one knew what had happened to him only that he had left the county and his estate. She had hoped that he would eventually come to her and they could start again – she had forgiven him so many times, but she never saw him again.

Her husband came into her life in 1921. He knew of her heartbreak and humiliation, he had experienced something similar. They met through her job. He had gone to a book signing with a beautiful woman on his arm, and she had gone (because she was the illustrator) by herself. They exchanged pleasantries, talked small talk, and after a polite amount of time, she left.

He showed up at her place of work about two weeks later and asked if he could take her to lunch on Saturday. She politely declined, but two weeks later he sent her a note with a small bouquet of flowers and asked again if he could take her to lunch that coming Saturday. She knew that he was the persistent type, so she wrote him back thanking him for the flowers and that she would meet him for lunch._ One_ _quick lunch wouldn't hurt, and beside he was only being kind_ she thought. She wasn't his type at all. All the women he was seen with were beautiful and flashy. She in comparison was sad and tired. Her life had dragged her down; she just wanted to be left alone.

Lunch was nice. They talked about their jobs and what they liked about them. He asked about her family, but realized that she didn't want to talk about them; whatever had happened between them he thought, had left her hurt and bleeding. Instead he told her about his childhood, how his two brothers and three sisters used to hike, fish, challenge each other. He told her how the holidays, even now were loud and boisterous and even though he now lived and worked in London, he looked forward to the holidays at home with his family. He told her about his father, and how much he loved and admired him and if he could ever be the kind of husband and father his father had been, then he would consider his life a success.

She envied him the closeness of a family. Hers was so fragmented. Her older sister Mary had married the man of her dreams, or so she hoped ; and would someday wear the coronet of the Countess of Grantham. Her younger sister had married the family chauffeur shortly after the end of the war and moved to Ireland with him. She did come back home before her child was born, but died shortly after delivering. It was a terrible time; a time that brought heartache even now whenever she thought about it. And she still harbored resentment against her parents and grandmother for the part they had played in convincing her first love that **he **wasn't good enough for her. She had tried to forgive them but she knew that it would take many years before that hurt would ever go away.

And so the months went by. She would see his picture in the paper with a beautiful woman on his arm but then a week or so later he would call or write and ask her to join him for lunch, dinner, or a small concert. She didn't know why she accepted or why he asked her; it always puzzled her but she enjoyed his company so she always accepted.

Another year went by and suddenly by the winter of 1922 they were seeing more of each other. She looked forward to the times they spent together; she enjoyed his energy. She had illustrated three books by then and was happy and contented in her work. She didn't look sad anymore, and slowly her broken heart was healing. She laughed when she thought about that old adage, _time heals all wounds_. She had never believed it, not at first, when just living everyday was so hard, but gradually day by day, breathing in and out, she healed.

She realized one day that her former first love was gone from her heart when she saw an open Rolls Royce similar to the one** he** had, driving down the street. She looked at it and remembered. But for the first time in two years no tears came to her eyes. She realized that **he** had come into her life to perhaps teach her something about herself. If that lesson had been to give her confidence, that she mattered, and that she could do anything she set her mind to, then she was glad that their paths had crossed even if for such a short time. She knew that they could have had a happy life together but that was never meant to be, and at that moment she knew that her life had turned a corner.

One evening after a concert when he had escorted her home, he kissed her goodnight. He had never done anything like that before, everything he did was always so slow and measured so she was somewhat taken by surprise, but not embarrassed. She confessed that he was the first man to kiss her, and he surprised her when he said that he didn't care if he was the first – he just wanted to be the last. When she mentioned that she wasn't anything like the other women he had dated, he told her in the most sincere way that men may date women like that, but they wanted women like her to be their wife and the mother of their children. He told her that he had slowly fallen in love with her.

Two months later he proposed properly and she accepted. She honestly didn't know if she loved him with** all** her heart, but she knew part of her loved him, and she could accept that. She knew that he would be a good husband and a wonderful father. She knew that he wanted these things, family, home, a respectable life. She knew that her family would never approve of him and she didn't care. She wrote to them and asked them to come to the wedding which was held in a small church in early spring of 1922, but she knew that if they declined she would know why. He, like the other, wasn't good enough for her!

He had taken care of all the details. She was surprised and touched when her mother and aunt came. He took her on a fabulous honeymoon to Amalfi , Italy. They laid in the sun, ate fish fresh off the boats and he made love to her with such passion that if she ever doubted his love, she didn't anymore. He had mended her broken heart with patience, kindness, and love. One night as they lay in each other's arms, she asked him why he chose her. He answered that he had always been drawn to her, even when they each thought they would be with another.

Their first child was born ten months later. Shortly before Angus was born her husband asked if he could be there with her. He asked her so lovingly that she had said yes even though she told him that it might not be a pretty sight. He was with her throughout her labor holding her hand, soothing her brow and telling her how much he loved her. He cut Angus' cord and held him before he was cleaned up. She looked at him, holding his first child, and saw a man so overwhelmed with joy that the tears wouldn't stop, for either of them. It was at that moment that she knew she loved him completely.

It was the same for the birth of the other four. Each time he was there, and each time he held each one and cried with joy. She suddenly realized that she and the family she had given him meant everything to him; more than his businesses, more than all the money he had made, more than their social status. She had made him happy. appy Happy, such a little word, but it carried such weight.

As the children grew they went to his family home for Christmas. He and his brothers and sisters yelled and teased each other, and eventually she was pulled in too. Their children and cousins played, fished, hiked, did all the things their father had done when he was young and she grew to love them all, especially her father-in-law.

He had asked her once if she would like a house in the country but she knew that he really wanted a place near where he was born and raised, so he purchased an old estate there, renovated it to make it modern and comfortable for his family, and it was there they spent most vacations and it was there he insisted she go with the children during the war. She refused to go without him, and although he didn't want to be gone from his businesses, he arranged to work from there. It was the first time in their married life that she had been truly afraid of losing him.

Earlier that day she had received a letter from a solicitor in London. There was a formal letter informing her of the death of her first love. **He **had died at the age of seventy eight from a heart attack. For the first time in years, she cried. Also enclosed was a letter that he had written to her over twenty years earlier, with instructions that it was to be given to her upon his death. It was a friendly letter, the kind that one would write to a friend; and if they had ever been anything to each other, it was always friends. He mentioned that he was selling his estate, after all he had no heirs, and had thought of moving to Canada as he had holdings there. He told her how she never left his thoughts, that he had many regrets, and that he eventually hoped she was able to forgive him. He wrote how glad he was that she had found happiness and that she had started the family she deserved. And finally at the end of the page he wished her and her family happiness always and then used the words that took her breath away – my dearest darling.

She sat there for a long time holding his letter. Finally when all her tears were spent, she kissed the letter and put in into the fire. Their time had passed and she had no regrets.

So here she sat at age 53 waiting for her husband. He had planned an elaborate party for their anniversary inviting all their friends and of course their family. She didn't have much family left. Her sister's Mary's marriage hadn't worked out and she spent most of her time on the continent. Mary's only son had been killed in the war and it was somehow ironic that Edith's son Angus would inherit Downton Abbey and the title Earl of Grantham, if that is what he wanted.

So much had happened in these last twenty five years; mostly good, some bad. Their lovely home in London had been damaged severely during the blitz. But they had rebuilt and tonight was the first party they would have in their new/old home.

As her husband entered the room and stood behind her she looked at him with love. His hair had turned a silver grey. The children teased him that it was the same silver color of the scales on the salmon he loved to catch. He had grown a mustache and it suited him. It somehow softened the angular lines of his face.

Pulling her to her feet he gathered her in his arms and said,

"Darling, I love you so. You gave me a life I never thought I could or would have. You have made me the happiest of men."

And when she looked at him she saw tears in his eyes.

Kissing him softly she said, "Oh, darling, without you my life would have been nothing as well. Because of you I have I have been able to continue to illustrate, have beautiful children, and enjoy a wonderful life with you. I have been truly blessed because of you. Now, let's us dry our eyes and go meet our family – our wonderful family.

Standing at the top of the stairs they looked down at the people below – their children, his sisters and brothers, their wives and husbands, as well as their children, her aunt Rosamund, aged now but still lovely, Tom Branson (her brother-in-law) and his daughter Sybil, and finally Matthew Crawley, the Earl of Grantham.

Edith turned again and kissed her husband. She was truly happy. She was a rich woman, financially yes, but richer in so many other ways. Putting her arm through her husbands, Sir Richard and Lady Edith Carlisle walked down the grand staircase of their beautiful home to the waiting arms and good wishes of the people they loved.


End file.
